


The Lioness

by YouthfulLiberty



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Humanstuck, Other, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 11:56:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3728023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouthfulLiberty/pseuds/YouthfulLiberty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was a ferocious lioness. No one dared to mess with her. She was a lone wolf. She didn't need anyone, and then she found him, alone, shriveling up in the summer sun. Pity pierced her heart, and she chose him. She chose him to be her faithful companion, to stand by her side until the end of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lioness

Equius Zahhak is alone. He sits on a bench, hands clasped together in his lap, legs kicking at the air in front of him. It’s sunny outside, and the bench isn’t anywhere near the shade. He squints in the bright light. His sunglasses broke last weekend, leaving him with no protection from the cruel sun. Sweat trickles down his forehead and drips off the tip of his nose. Even though he’s hot and miserable, and even though he’s all alone—  
Equius does not cry.   
It’s recess, the time for students to play outside and forget about their schoolwork. But no one wants to play with Equius. Not even the weird kid who smells like fish and wears an old, dirty scarf every day wants to play with him.  
Across from Equius, on the playground, children dart around in circles, screaming and hollering.  
“Tag! You’re It!”  
“Kanaya’s It! She’s It! She’s It!”  
Equius had watched the game of tag for a minute, when recess first began. He tore his eyes away and tilted his head down to stare at the crumbly asphalt. Watching his classmates ignore him made his heart drop like a clunky boulder.   
‘How much longer until recess is over?’ he wonders. Classwork isn’t something Equius enjoys. He likes math, but not coloring squares and triangles with green and blue. He knows how to read, too—in his head. When the teacher forces him to read aloud, the words get all mixed up in his head. His hands shake and cold sweat rolls down his hairline and the back of his neck. Every child in the room points and laughs at him. And during Project Time, he somehow always breaks the scissors. And by the end of Project Time, his clothes and hands are sticky with Elmer’s glue. The teacher always marches him to the princiPAL’s office, scolding him all the way.  
But even that torturous classroom is better than sitting in the hot sun, alone.  
Equius lets out a loud, long sigh. He’s so wrapped up in his discomfort that he doesn’t see the only kid on the swings hop off. He doesn’t see her look in his general direction, her head tilted to the side. And he doesn’t see her eyebrows knit in worry and sympathy.  
He doesn’t hear her shoes scrape against the ground as she walks towards him. He isn’t aware of her presence until she breathes in and:  
“Hey.”  
Equius lifts his head. Before him stands a girl that looks to be about his age and size. She has her hands on her hips. She’s leaning forward, lower lip sticking out.   
Equius doesn’t return the girl’s greeting. Instead, eyes glued to the girl’s stuck-out lip, he says, “A bee’s gonna come and sting you.”  
The girl reels back. Her hands don’t move from her hips. She’s wearing a hat, Equius notices. White cat ears poke out from its top, and pom-poms dangle from braids of black and green yarn. The hat’s too big for her head, and its rim droops, threatening to fall over her eyes. Her dark hair is frizzy and tangled, and her brown cheeks shine in the sunlight.   
The girl sucks in her lip long enough to let out a, “What?” and then it’s back, showing off its gummy pink skin to all the bees in the universe.  
“A bee,” Equius replies, pointing to his own, not-stuck-out lips. “One might come and sting you if you keep your lip out like that for too long.” He pauses, and, before the girl standing in front of him can reply, he adds, “My dad said so.”  
The girl’s forehead wrinkles. She’s quiet for a second, mulling over Equius’s words. “Your dad’s silly,” she says once the second is up, her voice loud. Equius’s cheeks grow hot—turning the shade of maroon he hates—and his stomach twists. His dad is not silly. His dad is a very intelligent man! But the anger fades when Equius realizes the girl hasn’t stuck her lip out again. She’s keeping it pulled back, snug in place.  
Equius’s heart soars with victory.  
“Hey, why’re you all alone?” the girl asks. Her voice isn’t as loud now. It’s softer, with a kind edge to it.  
“Oh, uh. I dunno,” Equius lies. He doesn’t want to tell the girl the other kids kicked him off the playground. That would be embarrassing.  
“Hmm.” The girl leans forward, shoving her face close to Equius’s. Their noses bump. Equius tries to lean away from the girl, but she keeps leaning closer and closer to him. She stares Equius in the eye.   
“Personal space.” Equius grips the edge of the bench. The wood is rough against his fingers. When the girl doesn’t budge, he assumes that she didn’t understand him. He repeats himself, “My personal space. You’re in it.”  
The girl squints her eyes. She stares at him for a few more seconds, though to Equius it feels like an eternity, and then steps back. “You’re sweaty,” she says, her nose scrunched up in disgust. Equius’s ears burn. He opens his mouth to explain that it’s normal to sweat, but the girl keeps talking. “Anyways, my name’s Nepeta.”  
Equius closes his mouth. The girl—Nepeta—has obviously moved on from her insulting comment. He looks down at Nepeta’s feet. She’s wearing black Sketchers. One of the Velcro straps has come undone, and it hangs off to the side.  
“Hey!” Nepeta exclaims, stamping a foot on the ground. Equius jumps, head snapping back up to look at Nepeta’s face. “Are you gonna tell me your name or what?”   
Oh. Equius had forgotten that if someone tells him their name, he has to tell them his name back. “My name’s Equius.”  
“OK. Equius, what are you?” Nepeta tilts her head to the side.  
“What am I?”  
“Yeah! What’re you?” For the first time in their encounter, Nepeta moves her hands off her hips. She jabs a thumb at her chest. “I’m a fierce lioness warrior! No one dares mess with me!” Nepeta grins. It’s an uneven grin. The left side curls more than the right. Equius bites back the urge to comment on it. “What are you?” Nepeta asks again.  
Equius frowns. “I don’t get it.”  
“Get what?” Nepeta’s grin fades. “What’s there to get? I’m a lioness, so what are you?”  
“I don’t—” Equius stops himself. He thinks for a second, rolling his eyes up to the blue sky. “I’m not anything like that,” he says.  
“Well you gotta be!”  
“Why?” Equius returns his eyes to Nepeta. She has her arms crossed over her chest. Her mouth twists into a nasty scowl. Equius decides he likes her crooked grin more.   
“Because, silly, how else are we gonna be able to play?”  
Play? Equius’s heart lifts at the prospect. He’s never seen this girl, and she already wants to play with him?  
“What’s your favorite animal?” Nepeta’s question comes out of nowhere.  
“Huh?”  
“What’s your favorite animal, you dumbo?” Impatience tints Nepeta’s voice.  
Equius feels a little hurt. “Dumbo’s not a nice word,” he mumbles.  
“Who cares? What’s your favorite animal?”  
‘I care. You shouldn’t call people names like dumbo. It’s not nice. You hurt my feelings and you should apologize,’ is what Equius wants to say. But he shoves the words down his throat. Judging by Nepeta’s tapping feet, she wouldn’t want to hear any of them. She might even change her mind about wanting to play with him.  
A chill shoots down Equius’s spine at the thought of Nepeta stomping away. She’s the first person his age to talk to him since the first couple weeks of school. He doesn’t want to chase her off so fast.  
So Equius answers Nepeta’s question, “A horse.”  
Nepeta stops her foot tapping. “You like horses?” She uncrosses her arms, letting them hang limp by her sides. Equius nods. “Mm, OK.” Nepeta lifts her hands a little and grabs the bottom of her shirt. It’s a simple shirt: plain black with short sleeves. Little balls of gray-white lint cling to the fabric, especially near the bottom. “Lemme think.”  
“Alright.” Equius leans against the back of his bench.  
Nepeta blows a stream of air through her nostrils. She chews on her lip, making squeaky, sucking noises. Her eyes roll over to the left, then to the right. She drops her head to her shoulder. Her hat shifts and almost falls off. Nepeta lifts her head, throwing up a hand to adjust the hat. Equius wonders what she’s thinking about.  
He doesn’t have to wonder for too long. Nepeta’s eyes soon widen, she stops biting her lower lip, and she lets go of her shirt. Almost moving too quickly for Equius to process, Nepeta reaches for him, fingers outstretched. She grabs his shoulders. She’s grinning her annoying, uneven grin. Her black eyes sparkle, and not from the sunlight.  
“A centaur!” she shouts. Her voice cracks from excitement. “You can be a centaur!” A droplet of saliva flies onto Equius’s cheek.  
“What’d’you mean?” he asks, lifting an arm to wipe away Nepeta’s spit.  
Nepeta releases his shoulders. “You like horses! Centaurs are, like, horse people! You can be a centaur!” Her wide grin seems to grow wider. Any wider and her face might split in two. The thought makes Equius shudder. “It’s perfect, Equius! Do you wanna be a centaur? You should totally be a centaur!”  
Equius shrugs. “Sure.” He doesn’t want to be a centaur. What he does want is to play with someone.  
“Great!” Nepeta claps her hands together. It must be painful to hold such a powerful grin, but Nepeta’s lips don’t twitch or falter. “A lioness and a centaur! Oh my gosh, this is gonna be so much fun!”  
Equius nods. At this point, even this childish game Nepeta is so giddy over sounds sorta fun.  
Nepeta whirls around. That’s when Equius sees the tail poking out of her pants. White and fluffy, it looks like a tail you would see on those funny-looking cats with the smashed, disgruntled faces. Equius doesn’t know what they’re called. At first, Equius thinks the tail is real, and he’s astonished. Then he remembers that’s not possible.  
Humans don’t have tails.  
Nepeta skips forward a few steps, her pretend tail bouncing up and down. She comes to an abrupt stop, and she twists her head to look back at Equius. “Aren’t you going to come play with me?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Well, what’re you waitin’ for, dumbo?” Nepeta flicks her left hand, beckoning Equius to follow her. “C’mon! Let’s go play already!”  
Equius pushes himself off the bench. He hesitates. He was starting to like that bench…  
The hesitation doesn’t last long. “OK,” he says, smiling.


End file.
